Carpe Diem
by Haikoui
Summary: Five shots before the inception, one during it. D/A, maybe some other pairings along the way.  Doubtful, though.


**Title: **Carpe Diem

**Author:** Haikoui

**Disclaimer: **Inception in NO WAY belongs to me. If I did, I'd probably have Cobb and Ariadne make out somewhere in the background as Arthur and Eames have curse word diarrhea. Ooooooh. That'd be a lot of fun, actually... I'll go ponder for awhile. 'Scuse me. :)

**Summary: **Five shots before the inception, one during it. D/A, maybe some other pairings along the way. (Doubtful, though.)

* * *

**I**

"I was thinking of using a catenary arch." She points to the sketch while holding a mug of coffee to him with the other – just the way he liked it, black, no sugar. "I mean, it looks better. It makes the whole scene look more natural, you know what I mean?"

He takes the mug and leans closer to the sketch. "Isn't that a rampant round arch?"

"Yeah. I thought we could use a catenary or a lancet arch instead. Lancet'll just make it look more exotic. It could be a little odd for the dreamer, but not completely off balance like a rampant round one," she tells him, nodding toward the drawings of arches on the sheet.

He places the mug onto the table. "Good point. I like using rampant round arches, but in this it's a bit too noticeable." He takes an eraser sitting at the edge of the table and fervently erases the design of the arch. "Here, you draw it in," he says, handing her a pencil and stepping back to watch her work.

She takes the pencil and begins sketching. He frowns as he regards her hands, and seconds later, he decides to change something about how she draws.

"Ariadne," he begins. "When you're drawing lancet or catenary arches, be sure you evenly distribute the weight of the building around it. It's the same for all arches but most of all lancet and catenary, they're prone to being a little more collapsible with how narrow they are. Same with the reverse ogee arch. So – " he takes the pencil and quickly sketches on a blank sheet of paper, " – I suggest kind of spacing out the blocks and putting in some more curve. That's the thing with these sorts of arches. They're narrow so they're harder to support. Make sure to try and keep the appearance but give it some support with the curves too."

He places the pencil down. "And there's a sort of way to do that with a pencil while sketching it out, to make certain that you know what you're drawing and seeing. Hold the pencil at an angle here, against your knuckle like that." And he switches the angle of the pencil just as he speaks. It's a complicated position, but he's had so much practice with it when he was younger that it comes to him naturally now. It's instinctive.

Ariadne takes the pencil from him and attempts to copy the position. "Wait," she says, fumbling with the pencil. "Against the knuckle like that?"

He leans closer unconsciously and changes the position of her fingers. "Here." But he doesn't let go after she's got it. "Like you're holding a sheet of paper with three fingers, and it's resting on your knuckle."

"Oh," she says, gripping the pencil tighter to get the feel of the new position.

"And here – " he moves over and takes her hand in his, mimicking the position, " – sketch it like that. Isn't it easier to get the curves down on paper?"

"Wow," she says quietly, watching as he guides her hand to drawing a lancet arch.

He stops. "Yeah," he agrees, staring.

He can't tell what he's in awe of. How well the pencil position works to draw out a spectacular piece of architecture, or how well their hands fit together.

**II**

"Ariadne, darling," says the forger as he leans against the door of the warehouse. "What on earth are you still doing here?"

The architect lifts heavy, tired eyes from the model in front of her. "Eames?"

"Well, yes," says Eames. "That _is_ my name, love. I'll go with something else if you don't like it, of course. Perhaps Joe. "

"No, no, don't do that," she slurs, obviously exhausted. He frowns, but she stumbles away from the model and to her jacket on the back of a spare chair without noticing his expression. "You the only one still here?" she inquires.

Eames shrugs. "Cobb's cleaning up in the storage room. He takes his time."

"Oh," she mumbles, falling silent. The forger watches, amused, as she struggles to put her arms through her sleeves.

"D'you want help, darling?" he questions.

Ariadne shakes her head and fits her arm into the sleeve, tugging the jacket over her shoulders. There's a noise at the back of the warehouse, and they turn to see Cobb shutting the door to the storage room with a large bag slung over his shoulder. Eames is about to draw up a witty comment when he notices the slight look of anticipation that flits over the extractor's face when he sees them.

"I'll just be leaving, then," says Eames. "I'm bloody tired. You two – have fun. Don't sleep late."

He doesn't fail to miss Ariadne's very puzzled look and Cobb's slight flush. _Oh ho ho,_ he thinks. _Looks like someone got the jackpot on the slot machine. _

**III**

Dominic Cobb takes his time. He's normally a very patient man and if there isn't a crisis, he can hold onto something for however long as it takes. He takes his time while sketching, while planning out a job, while teaching and living in the moment. He hasn't lived in the moment for a while, though, which is why he tries to prolong this as much as possible. His hands undo the buttons of the blouse slowly, savoring every second because it's a secret, and she presses a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Cobb," she whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulls the blouse apart, tugging her closer. He answers her with a kiss and moves to her neck. He vaguely appreciates the fact that only he has the key to the storage room at the back of the warehouse and that the others in the front are far too deep in testing the dream levels that they wouldn't know. So he takes his time.

His hands begin to fumble with her jeans. She slides her small hands from his neck to his chest, as if about to undo his own shirt – and she does it expertly, all the way, pushing it apart and moving her hands to his back. He nips at her lower lip and she traces his mouth with her tongue, the talented artist she is – and it isn't until he begins to push her jeans down her slim legs when something snaps and she pulls away, leaning her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She lifts her head to look at him with soft, chocolate eyes and he's entranced again, placing another kiss on her lips. She presses back and pulls away after a couple seconds, pushing him away, before pulling him back and beginning to button his shirt. "They'll be waking soon," she says quietly.

He helps her slide back into her white blouse, slipping the buttons through their corresponding holes. "I'm sorry, Ariadne," he tells her quietly, sincerely. "I wasn't thinking." He begins to move away when her hand shoots out and grabs his own.

"Don't you dare think it's your fault," she says firmly, looking him in the eye. "Don't you dare, when I'm coming to you as often as you come to me."

"This is an addiction, Ariadne, you can't deny that," he says tiredly, starting to pull away from her again, dropping his eyes to the floor. She tightens her grip and shakes her head.

"You can't call it that, Dom," she whispers. He lifts his eyes to look at her again and sees, to his utmost surprise and despair, that her own are glazed. Without another word, he gathers her in his arms.

**IV**

"Eames, it isn't hard to see which apples are ripe and which _aren't,_" says Arthur, exasperated, tossing a deep red apple in the forger's direction.

Eames groans loudly and nearly misses catching the apple as it flies dangerously toward him and the two quiet team members treading around the dairy section of the grocery store. "Remind me why we have to go shopping for food again with this boring bugger?" inquires Eames hotly, turning to face the extractor, who is tossing a pack of yogurt between his hands and holding it up to his eyes, squinting at the nutrition information.

"Because Yusuf's birthday is coming up soon and we all know the poor man doesn't exactly have the greatest life besides his wife and cat," replies Cobb, shifting his eyes from the yogurt to the forger, looking annoyed.

"I don't get why _I _have to be here," Eames whines, dropping the apple back onto the rest in their crate. "I mean, Arthur doesn't have to be here either. We could be having some sort of male bonding time and everyone knows that grocery shopping isn't the definition of male bonding time, don't they, darling?" The last part is directed to the point man, who flushes terribly and chucks another fruit, this time a pomegranate, in Eames' direction.

Eames straightens and swivels around to find Cobb holding the yogurt in one hand and the pomegranate in the other, his eyebrows rising dangerously. Behind the extractor, Ariadne looks as though she's about to either laugh or scream.

"If you don't want to be here, Eames, you _really_ don't have to be," says Cobb.

"Oh yes, that's just fine by me," Eames replies happily. Arthur gives a loud, pained groan and a handful of shoppers glance at them, irritated, before returning to their separate tasks. Eames takes the opportunity to continue. "You and Ariadne can just stay here, darling, and shop for Yusuf's birthday. It's like a _couple_ thing. Y'know, love?"

Cobb's eyes narrow until they are nearly horizontal slits against his face and Ariadne begins to exude a deadly atmosphere that the passing shoppers begin to avoid them like a plague.

"Eames, you've really done it this time," says Arthur, the second they leave the store.

Eames smirks and shoves his hands in his slacks' pockets. "Oh, darling. Cobb's just missing what's in front of him and Ariadne's too loyal to give in. Well, in public, anyway." At Arthur's disbelieving glare, Eames decides to expand on the topic. "You should really visit the storage room in the warehouse one day, sweetheart."

**V**

Ariadne likes her work to be neat and modern. She's very particular about the details she puts in her work and always tries to avoid thing that would be unnecessary. But what most people don't know is that she adores unraveling what she can't understand.

When he isn't looking, she watches him and observes how he works. He's unpredictable and unstable. He's a thundercloud. He's rain and lightning and at the same time he's the sun and the moon, and even more so, he's the sky and the ocean.

He's also a lover and a father. A husband and a widow. So well-kept, yet under all that confidence and masked up expressions he's a torn dreamer.

It's these observations she makes over the course of a couple weeks that lead her to this very minute, sitting next to him in a dream as he rests wordlessly on a park bench with silent tears treading down his cheeks. She lets him because she knows this is the only opportunity he has to fully let go. He can't break down in front of the others because it's unnatural, at least to the others, when the leader can't lead.

Finally, he seems to calm and she, after much internal debate and conflict, takes his hand and grips it soothingly. He turns his head and his sea colored eyes meet hers, glazed and beautiful all the same, and he whispers, "Why are you so perfect?"

She gives no response except for a soft smile, and he turns his eyes to watch the projections mingle about in the park.

**VI**

It's nothingness. There's no other word to describe it. It is so obvious that the world here is empty, and Ariadne has the feeling that even if projections were here and that limbo was just like reality, there would always be something missing and that nothing would feel right whatsoever. The tall extractor beside her remains silent as he walks slowly through the empty streets of his – and his dead wife's – old world. Occasionally, he describes what she sees. A playground down the block. A hospital. Mal's childhood home. But he doesn't stop at any one of them.

It's a melancholy feeling that washes through her, like the waves of the ocean. It is right before he begins walking again after pointing out a copy of her university, where he had proposed to Mal back when she was still alive, that Ariadne takes his hand in his, moving to embrace him.

He's still at first before wrapping his arms around her and laying his chin on top of her head. Her hands are gripping his back tightly and his own rest around her waist.

"Ariadne," he begins after a moment, pulling away and tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. "Tell me that whatever happens, you'll never let go of reality."

"It's going to be hard to do," she tells him softly.

"Promise me you'll try," he whispers back, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"And promise me you won't lose yourself." It's a hard thing to commit too. She can tell by the way his eyes widen slightly.

He takes in a deep breath before taking both of her hands in his. "I can't promise that," he says brokenly, his brows furrowing.

"Then I can't promise that I'll never let go of reality." It's a true statement. She won't try unless he tries with her. "I follow you, Cobb."

"Dom," he whispers. "Dom."

His name is a curse and a blessing at the same time, she notices. "Hold out your hand," she says, pulling away. He complies, and she holds up her totem. "Promise me you won't lose yourself, Dom."

He seems as though he's fighting an internal struggle, and losing. He shakes his head.

And she drops the totem into his hand. His eyes close in defeat as she watches him absorb the feeling of the cool metal in his hands.

"Then I can't promise what you want me to promise," she tells him, smiling wistfully. "So now you've got to come back."

He closes his eyes before pulling her to him and kissing her fiercely, molding a hand in her hair and the other hand gripping her totem and grabbing her own hand so she feels it as well.

"You're so stupid," he murmurs against her lips. "You're so stupid, so stupid, dammit, Ariadne, why'd you do that? Now you can't – you can't – dammit, Ariadne, you're so stupid – " And the last bit is a sob that he chokes out as he pulls away and grips her hand, and the totem, simultaneously.

"You showed me this world," she tells him bravely, "and you get to take it away."

He watches her with red rimmed eyes before looking off into the distance, taking in a shuddering breath. "Mal's got Fischer," he whispers. He turns back to her and drops her totem back in her hand. "I've got to let her go. She's gone now. Ariadne – " he takes in another breath and hesitates for a split second, " – please, help me, if I can't do it."

"Then you're coming back with us, to your kids." Her voice is shaking now.

Cobb smiles slightly, and his stature and confidence begins to seep back into him. She can tell. He kisses her cheek before resting his own cheek beside hers. "You never know," he breathes.

"Carpe diem," she tells him. "I'll always be here, regardless."

* * *

_**Carpe Diem**_** means 'Seize The Day,' originating from a Latin poem. It's normally associated with not knowing the future, and to just live your life the way it plays out, making use of each day. I dunno. I just always liked the phrase. :) **

**Love you all. You all are such great inspirations. Seriously. _Great inspirations. _:D**

**Congratulations to Inception winning four Oscars! (Though honestly, to me, it deserved at least twice as many.)**


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